Limelight by M Jet

day and a half after his death.
    His bandmates each received a call from the manager, even before the coroner had collected Seth's body from his home.  All future tour dates were canceled, and they would soon find Victim Unknown was done.
    But it was through endless police questioning and news reports where Tara learned that, of course, Layla Dane was a person of interest in the case of her husband's death.  Police considered the possibility that Layla had been abducted and was being held against her will.  But the theory wasn't likely.  The couple's bank account had been emptied the morning following his death, before Seth's body was ever discovered.  And though her car remained parked in their garage, it appeared some of her clothing and belongings were missing.  Everybody was shocked, and nobody revealed any knowledge of what had happened to Layla.  So an all points manhunt ensued for the missing widow.
    Tara was understandably, a nervous wreck following the grisly discovery.  But she honored her promise to Layla and stuck to the story she'd been told to tell.  Within a week, she was officially cleared of any involvement, as was the rest of the band.  And they went their separate ways.
    Within two weeks, the news coverage on the story slowed as other stories sprang into the limelight.  Within three weeks, there still was no word on the whereabouts of Layla Dane.  Within four weeks, the whole thing seemed forgotten altogether and the general consensus was that the case had gone cold.
    After six weeks passed, Tara began to grow excited that she would soon hear from her beloved, whom she missed and worried about obsessively.  But no word came.
    By the time three months passed, she began to fear that Layla had changed her mind.  She stopped sleeping, stopped eating, and began thoroughly falling apart.
    Tara Outeridge had been left utterly alone in the world with a dead man's blood on her hands.

Six Months Later
    T ara returned to her apartment exhausted after a late shift at the hospital where she was a nurse.  She grabbed her mail on the way in.
    Once inside her door, she dropped her purse and keys on a hallway table, and began flagging through the mail.  Mostly bills, with one first class pouch.  She momentarily tried to recall if she'd ordered something but couldn't imagine what it might be.  She carried the pouch into her small kitchen and took a seat at a table to open it.
    Several things toppled out.  A passport, an I.D., a social security card, and a birth certificate.  Amazingly, the items with a photo, displayed her own image, only with short black hair, which must have been photoshopped.  But the name on all the documentation was Elsa Anderson.  Tara gasped, and tears began spilling down her cheeks.  She reached into the envelope again and produced a bundle of hundred dollar bills and a note.
    The only thing on the slip of paper was a Canadian address and the words, "It's time."
    She leapt up from the table so fast, she overturned her chair.
    ***
    A total of three weeks had passed since Grace Webster sent the package to her friend in the states.
    She sat glumly on her back porch early one morning gazing into the first hints of sunshine creeping over the horizon.  Her fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee and tears glistened in her eyes.  She knew she'd let a long time pass.  An excruciatingly painful amount of time.  Elsa Anderson may have given up.  May have assumed she'd forgotten her, or blown her off.  It would be totally understandable if Elsa had decided to bow out of Grace's twisted little world.
    And her world certainly had changed.  Along with her new identity, she'd been able to secure a new set of credentials and get a job teaching fifth graders in the local public school.  She loved her kids, and she'd made nice friends.  She maintained a quiet, pleasant existence and there wasn't a thing wrong with it.  But it certainly was different.
    She didn't dare sing a